Just spent the afternoon scrubbing the goddamn bathroom floor on my hands and knees. The cheap ass landlord won't fix the leak under the sink, so the whole place smells like mildew and regret. My back's aching and my knees are raw, but there's something almost peaceful about it. For a few hours, it was just me, the bleach smell burning my nose, and the quiet. No men staring at my tits while they talk, no calculating what I need to do to keep the lights on. Just cleaning up a mess I can actually see. Summer came home and saw me there, my ass in the air, scrubbing like some 1950s housewife, and she just stared. Didn't offer to help. Didn't say a word. Just went to her room and closed the door. Sometimes I think the space between us in this shitty apartment is wider than the whole fucking state of Texas.